


The Truth of The Spider

by Lady_Cinna



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Before Overwatch disbanded, F/M, Lore - Freeform, Widowmakers past, headcannon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 01:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7385200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Cinna/pseuds/Lady_Cinna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A warm day at the beach leads Amélie into a dangerous situation with a rugged man</p><p> </p><p>The first chapter of a Widowmaker headcannon. I wasn't very happy with the official Widowmaker lore, so this is the first chapter of a headcannon that includes her meeting Gérard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truth of The Spider

As a young girl, Amélie was afraid of spiders. She was told stories that chilled her to the bone and sent shivers down her spine. In the stories they said that spiders felt nothing; no fear, no emotions. Just thinking about the creatures gave Amélie goose bumps that made her hair stand on end and her muscles tense up.

As a little girl in France she was polite, sweet and would always dream of when she would grow up. She was going to buy a house with a view of the sea so every morning she would wake up to the sound of the rough waves crashing against the shore, spraying the sharp scent of the ocean into the air. She always dreamed of waking up every day and walking along the beach and getting the sand stuck between her toes as she walked. Although this dream never came true right away, she was happy after she grew up even if it wasn’t what she dreamed.

Every month she would find a way to go down to the beach and spend a day there. She would spend her time reading books on the sand and watching the young children play in the water while the soft ocean breeze played with her hair. When she was at the beach she would sometimes go to the markets to buy fresh fruit and look for new books to keep her dream alive. As she was gazing up and down the market stalls, she allowed the area around her to engulf her as she breathed deeply of the fresh air. The air was ripe with the scents of the fruits and spices swirling through subtle ocean air. She found herself simply walking through the markets, without caring for where she was walking. Soon enough she found herself far from the village and she drew closer to the nearby ruins. She had never been afraid of these places. She felt comforted by them because no one else came by. As she entered the ruins she decided to stay a while and read her book.

She approached a low wall that had crumbled long ago, made herself comfortable and began to absorb herself in reading. She became so absorbed she did not even realise the sounds of gunshots that were getting closer. Amélie was halfway through her chapter when she saw a small object moving towards her, out of the corner of her eye. Before she could lift her head and recognise what the object was, there were already a pair of hands around her waist as she felt herself trust forward off the wall onto the harsh pavement with the solid body of someone else around her and the sounds of an explosion resonating from where she had just been sitting. As the rubble rained down upon Amélie and her saviour, she slowly turned her head to see the destruction that had engulfed the wall where she had sat only seconds beforehand, still staring at the rubble that lay before her. She felt the person beside her unwrap themselves from her body. She looked down and saw him as he propped himself up onto one arm slowly. He was well built, stocky with sharp features; he wore some form of uniform that Amélie did not recognise. As he lifted his head up, he met her gaze. Still in a state of shock, all she could do was examine every feature in his face; his hair was short, brown, soft and had been ruffled by the explosion and a small stock curled lightly over his face. His nose and cheeks were heavily defined and covered with remnants of the wall, contrasting his face and bringing light to his eyes which were sharp and bright and full of emotion. Once his eyes came up to meet hers, the soft stare broke her trance and she heard words spoken is a soft tone  
“Are you okay?” he said. She spent a few seconds simply looking at him before Amélie responded.  
“I am. Thank you for saving me” she said, her voice shaking more than she wished it would. “Well then, I recommend staying out of the ruins, mon chéri” he sighed as he lifted himself up and offered her his hand, which she took and pulled against him to bring herself up off the ground. The stranger dusted himself off and began to run back into the ruins, sending one last glance back towards Amélie before he disappeared behind a large wall.

Still in shock, all that Amélie could do was grab her tattered book and walk out of the ruins onto the nearby grass, where she sat, stunned as she listened to sounds of gunfire still drifting from the rubble sending up clouds of dust. After what felt like hours, she saw a boat speeding towards the coastline and abruptly stop as three passengers jumped onto the deck just before it began to speed off into the distance and over the horizon. A few moments later the man who saved her was limping out of the ruins towards her. He was grasping his side with a hand that was covered in blood. As he approached the grass bank, where she was sitting, he lifted his head slightly, just enough to make eye contact with her before he collapsed onto the ground with a dull ‘thud’.

As he hit the soft ground, Amélie snapped back into reality as her eyes came into focus and a jolt went through her body. Her gaze shot down towards his limp body that lay across the ground in an uncomfortable position. She rose from the ground and dashed towards his body and struggled to roll his torso over under his weight. Once she had she peeled his hand from around his stomach and inspected the bloody wound. It wasn’t too deep into the flesh, but it would need to be wrapped before the man lost too much blood. With a new found haste in her steps, Amélie ran back towards the markets and filled her basket with bandages and food until it was full and her purse was empty. She hurried back towards the grass bank and began to patch the man’s wound by tearing the fabric away from his side and began to bandage his wound. She hastily checked his other wounds and rubbed ointment on his smaller wounds. After she finished tending to him, she leaned back and black spots began to envelop her vision as she herself fainted.

When she next woke up, the surface below her was firm and she could feel her body sinking into the space around her. She slowly opened her eyes. As she became used to the light. She took in her surroundings, above her was a plain cream white painted ceiling and beside the bed she lay in was a small table with her basket and the food she purchased placed on top. She began to lift herself up into a sitting position as she looked to the further edges of the room; it was plain with only a small dresser and two rectangular paintings hung on the wall by hooks and a large window that gave the room life. As her eyes drifted to the door across the room, the handle moved and the door began to swing open and the man from earlier stumbled into the room, still carrying himself with a limp. He held a mug and a rough book that appeared to be covered in dust and with some of the cover missing. He looked up from his mug and saw Amélie sitting on the bed and a look of surprise passed over his face as he continued to walk to the middle of the room. Amélie sat up further and positioned herself until she was sitting cross legged as he placed his mug down on the table and offered her the book.  
“It’s good to see you up and about, mon chéri. You’ve been out for a little over a day now” he said as a smile crept over his face which had now been properly bandaged. “Thanks for helping me out back there, patching me up and what not. I tried to repair your book but I think it’s missing a few pages” He looked into her eyes, possibly expecting a response but one was not forthcoming from Amélie, as she was still trying to take in her surroundings. “I’ll -uhh buy you a new one” he awkwardly added in just before a sharp pain seemed to envelop him and he collapsed onto the bed beside her. At this Amélie reacted by lifting herself off the bed and adjusting him till he was laying down where she was sitting just before. His face was contracting against the pain, contorting his expressions into one of agony. Without a word, Amélie left the room and walked down the plain hall until she found a bathroom which she proceeded to raid for medical kits. Once she found what she was looking for she walked back down the hall and back into the room, faster this time. She knelt down by the man’s side as she gave him painkillers, put ointment on his scratches and reapplied bandages to his wound. While she was doing this, the man simply looked at her as if he was questioning what she was doing. After she had finished she went to put the kit back into the bathroom. Once she had returned she found him asleep. She picked up her book which had fallen to the ground, placed it in her basket and began to look for the front door. On her way out she picked up the keys that she found hanging on the wall and walked out onto the busy street. 

The man woke up just as the sun was setting, he spent a few minutes watching the sun set with the last rays of light dancing over the horizon. He then looked around; something was wrong. The basket and book were missing. Where was the woman who helped him? The door across the room was open but before he could lift himself up, the woman’s head appeared in the doorway. She took one look at him as he tried to sit up and began to walk over to him. She placed her fingertips on his chest and lightly pushed him back down onto the bed and left the room. Less than a minute later, she reappeared with a tray in her hands and a delicious smell accompanied her into the room. She placed the tray down on the table beside him and took one of the bowls that was on the tray and positioned herself cross legged on the floor. He rearranged the pillows as he sat up in the bed. He looked over at her, hesitant of what he should do. She glanced at him, then at the bowl and gestured for him to eat. He wrapped his hands around the bowl and felt the instant heat that engulfed his hands and spread up his arm. He breathed deeply of the smell which was unmistakable as chicken soup. On the tray still sat a plate of fresh bread he looked back to her and began to speak. “You didn’t hav-“  
“Shhhh” She replied “eat, you will feel better”  
Without hesitation this time he reached for the spoon on the tray and began to devour the soup at an alarming rate, dipping some of the fresh bread in every now and again. Once he had gotten halfway through the bowl, a sharp pain overcame him and his whole body jerked. At the sight of this the woman placed her bowl on the floor and raided her pockets for more painkillers which she then offered to him. He accepted them gratefully but still did not feel the effect kick in. She bent over and placed her bowl lightly onto the table and sat down on the bed beside him. Seeing that he was still in quite a lot of pain, she adjusted his pillows and allowed him to lay back slightly. She picked up the bowl from his lap and with movements that seemed too delicate to be real she began to feed him his soup until the bowl was empty. After he had eaten his fill, drowsiness overcame him once more as his eyelids began to droop, but this time he was determined. He forced his eyes open and asked the woman. “What is your name, mademoiselle?” his voice light with the beginnings of sleep.  
“Amélie, and you?” her voice light with a softness that he could listen to all day.  
“Gérard Lacroix” he murmured as he drifted off to sleep, his face sinking into the pillow.

Amélie finished her soup and took the bowls into the kitchen, placing them on the bench. She went back into the hall where she found a cupboard that she opened and retrieved a blanket which she then took back into the bedroom and curled up on the floor. As the clutches of sleep began to take hold she stared out the window and watched the stars as they littered the sky. Her eyelids began to droop low as she said “bonne nuit, monsieur” as the grasps of sleep consumed her.

**Author's Note:**

> It will most likely take me a while to update this as I am trying to get back into the swing of things. Sorry  
> I wrote this a while ago so sorry if it's old news or anything :3
> 
> For those who don't know 'Bonne nuit' is french for goodnight. The others should be easier to understand :3


End file.
